


where your words are born

by sincereously



Series: Valentines Rare Pairs Week 2020 [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Cross-cultural, F/M, Languages and Linguistics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincereously/pseuds/sincereously
Summary: Every once in a while, Mors catches his wife singing.
Relationships: Mors Martell/Nymeria of the Rhoyne
Series: Valentines Rare Pairs Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628242
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	where your words are born

**Author's Note:**

> For the Valentines Rare Pairs Week on Tumblr - day 2, tongue.

Every once in a while, Mors catches his wife singing.

There are many things he has yet to learn about Nymeria, even after years of partnership in war and months of partnership in what still doesn't quite feel like a marriage. Oh, he knows quite a bit - that she's more intelligent than anyone he's ever met, that she has a particular jut of her chin that means she's about to explode at whoever is talking down to her, that sometimes she cries out apologies in her sleep. Sometimes she stands on a balcony of the palace at Sunspear and stares out to the sea. 

And sometimes, when he sees her on that balcony, he hears her singing. She has a good voice, a rich alto that rolls over the smooth consonants and vowels like the currents over the rocks of the Torrentine. He cannot recognize the words she sings, and he's almost certain it's in the language of her people, for all that she's banned its use in Dorne. Some habits, he supposes, are written deeper than any law can cast them out. 

"What is that?" he finally asks, one clear night with the stars that people are already calling Nymeria and her Ten Thousand Ships glowing overhead.

She doesn't look at him for a moment; the only indication that she's heard him is the slight tensing and relaxing of her hands on the balcony's rail. Mors waits. He's learned by now that Nymeria will only speak in her own time and not a moment before. 

She repeats the words, slower. Despite the fact that she's not singing, there's still a kind of music in what she says. 

"What does it mean?"

"It..." she says, and it's strange for him to see her at a loss for words. "It doesn't translate into your language very well."

"I'd like to hear it," he replies. "If you wish."

She nods almost imperceptibly, squares her shoulders like she does before she goes before the war councils. "There's a word - _roysar_. It means" - she waves a hand, blows out a sharp breath - "it means the current where two rivers meet, or the act of those two rivers meeting, but it's more than that. It's - changes but staying the same. All waters flow together eventually, as the Mother Rhoyne gathers all her children - " She snorts. "I sound like a priestess."

"It's certainly more interesting than anything I've heard from a septon," he says. Instantly he wonders if she'll be offended by the levity, but she briefly smiles.

"All waters flow together eventually," she repeats, more to herself than him. Louder, she says, "There's no tragedy in two rivers becoming one, only a gathering into something they always traveled toward and always belonged to. Death is much like that, or so the priests and priestesses always said. The song I was singing, it's about _roysar_. It's also a prayer for the dead."

She turns to him, crosses her arms. "Do not mistake me. This is our home now, and we have no wish to go against your customs - "

"I didn't think - "

"I know you didn't." She uncrosses her arms and looks back out over the waters. "This is our home now. But there are many who did not arrive with us. I only wanted...I thought this might give them peace."

Even looking away from him, he can tell she's blinking hard. He waits a moment for her to compose herself and says softly, "Can you teach me the words?"

She starts shaking her head even before he's finished talking. "It's better if I don't," she replies.

Perhaps he should have expected that - he is her husband, her consort, her partner in war, but he is not a Rhoynar. For all that he admires _(loves? he thinks sometimes that this is love)_ Nymeria, there are some things about her that he will never truly know. "I - I think I still have a petition to look over for tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning, my princess," he says, taking a step backwards. With one hand on the balcony door, though, he stops and turns to her again.

"All waters flow together eventually," he says softly. "Even the Greenblood and the Rhoyne."

He thinks that is all that this night will bring, and goes to leave.

"Mors," she calls out as she catches his shoulder. He's barely turned around before she kisses him.


End file.
